by J B Hawker
“Well?” he said.
Judy started to speak but was interrupted when the waitress came to take their order.
“I’ll have a taco salad, without dressing, no cheese or meat, please. And a cup of pico de gallo salsa on the side,” Judy instructed.
After Ken ordered a tuna melt, the waitress left them alone.
“Okay, now tell me what is troubling you,” he prompted again.
“Ann died early this morning,” she said.
“I’m so sorry,” Ken said. “That’s a surprise. No wonder you’re upset. You thought she was doing so well.”
“Yes, but that’s not what I needed to talk with you about. I mean, it is and it isn’t. I was surprised and sad about her death, but it seems sort of like she should have had a chance to live again, at least for a little while, after giving her life to Christ. Why would God take her so soon?”
“You think God was punishing her by taking her to be with Himself?” Ken asked, one eyebrow inching up toward his ever-receding hairline.
Looking a little shamefaced, Judy shook her head.
“When you put it that way, I suppose she was being rewarded. It seems a pity to live all her years carrying that awful weight of guilt from her abortions. Although I don’t believe for one minute she had as many as she said. She was just to try to shock me. I think she would have been just as unhappy after that first sad procedure,” she said.
“She was so young at the time and had no one to turn to. The shame for that lies with her foster mother, the son and the doctor, in my opinion,” Ken said.
Their lunches arrived, so the couple joined hands while Ken said a brief prayer.
Judy spooned salsa onto her salad, pulled a corn tortilla from the warming bowl and spent a few moments concentrating on her food.
“Do you think it is true, what the pro-choice people say?” Judy asked when she’d paused to take a drink of iced tea.
“What do you mean?” Ken asked.
“They say most women don’t feel ashamed or guilty about an abortion. Is that even possible?”
“I hate to think so,” Ken said. “But many of this generation are being raised without any moral code, at all. They’ve been indoctrinated to think they can do anything they want, with no consequences. I hope and pray that, eventually, they will come to see the light. Undoubtedly, when their eyes are opened to what they’ve done, the shame and guilt will come, too.”
“I know God is in control, especially in these terrible times,” Judy said. “But it’s hard to watch what is happening.”
“All we can do is trust and obey and continue to pray,” Ken said. “Now, I’ve got to get back to the office. Shall I drop you at home, or did you drive to the church earlier?”
“I’m walking today, but I think I’ll walk home, too. Thanks, anyway. I’ve got a lot of praying to do.”
Chapter 10
Paisley joined her sister at a table in the cafeteria, pushing aside a crumpled brown paper bag to make room for her lunch tray.
“How can you eat that mystery meat, Patsy?” Astilbe asked around a mouthful of quinoa and pine nuts.
“It’s meatloaf, and I like it. Some days I simply can’t face another of Mom’s healthy concoctions.”
“Yeah, I can relate. This cold quinoa salad is one of my favorites, though. Especially after I add mayo,” Astilbe said, while shaking more salt onto her food.
“I keep thinking of what Mom told us last night about that homeless woman you helped. She had it rough,” Paisley said.
“I was glad to hear she’s getting better, though. I think we should bring her home to stay with us when she is well enough to leave the hospital. If she goes back on the street, she’ll just get sick again.”
“We can’t have a stranger living with us, Tilly. We don’t know what kind of a person she is. She could be on drugs or anything.”
“Mom said she’s turned to Christ, remember?”
“Sometimes you are so naive,” Paisley said. “Just because she says a prayer doesn’t mean she becomes a different person.”
“I think the Bible would argue that point with you...remember the whole ‘born again’ business?”
“Oh, well sure, sometimes people just completely turn around, but it doesn’t always work that way. This woman is old, and she’s been living who-knows-what kind of life up to now. Mom said she’s even had abortions. It takes time to change bad habits and learn new ways. I wouldn’t feel safe with someone like that in our house.”
“We have to give her a chance. I’m going to ask Mom and Dad tonight. It’s the Christian thing to do,” Astilbe declared as she stood and gathered her things. “See you after sixth period, I’ll want a ride to the doctor’s office.”
Paisley sat chewing the rubbery cafeteria meatloaf and thinking about what her sister said. Was it un-Christian to be skeptical about the homeless woman’s sickbed conversion? Not used to being uncertain about anything, Paisley was eager to clarify her thoughts and decided she needed to talk to her parents, too.
*
Astilbe was emptying the medical waste from Dr. Haleby’s exam rooms into the disposal bin when she overheard Gwennie and Bitsy discussing the doctor’s sad news about his cousin.
“So, that body my mom found was Dr. Haleby’s cousin?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Gwennie replied.
“She wasn’t even as old as you when she died,” Bitsy added.
“How did her body get into that box in the woods?” Astilbe asked.
“I’m sure that’s something the authorities want to know, too,” Gwennie said. “We haven’t heard anything about the cause of death, yet, but it has to be suspicious. People don’t just climb into a box in the woods and die.”
“It’s probably easy to figure out what happened, though,” Bitsy said. “Teenage runaways are raped and murdered all the time. Let that be a lesson for you, Astilbe.”
“What? I would never even consider running away. But, how can anyone be sure what Dr. Haleby’s cousin died of, after all these years?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Gwennie said. “I watch those forensic shows on TV, and they can look at a single bone and tell all sorts of things. They’ve got a whole mummy to work with this time.”
“That’s right! I saw a National Geographic special on mummies. The museum people used x-rays to look right through the caskets. It was amazing how much they could tell about people who’d died thousands of years ago. This one’s only been dead a few decades. They could probably tell you what she had for lunch the day she died, if they wanted to,” Bitsy said.
“It seems so sad,” Astilbe said. “Her family thought she’d run away and all the time her body was close by and nobody knew.”
“Doctor told me there will be a memorial service for her at the Episcopal Church this Friday morning. He’s had me reschedule his appointments for the whole day,” Gwennie said. “I guess it will give the family closure.”
“Are her parents still around here?” Astilbe asked.
“No,” Bitsy responded. “They are both gone. Doctor and his family are the only ones left. I haven’t heard tell of any of her friends still being around, either, so it will probably be a small service.”
“Are you going?” Gwennie asked the nurse.
“Of course! All Doctor’s family and close friends will be there. I suppose co-workers would be welcome, too, if you want to come.”
“Do you think it would be okay if I went, too?” Astilbe asked. “I mean; I just feel so sorry for her.”
“Sure, honey. That’s sweet of you to care. The doctor and his family will appreciate your kindness,” Gwennie said, before Bitsy could object. “You can ride with me...but won’t you have school on Friday morning?”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Well, if I can’t get a pass from class, maybe I can send flowers,” Astilbe said.
“That would be very appropriate,” Bitsy approved as she shrugged into a saggy, over-sized sweater, preparing to leave.
The subject of the funeral came up around the dinner table that night. When she learned of the time, Judy decided to attend.
“I feel like, since I found her, I sort of owe it to her, somehow,” she explained, when Ken questioned her decision.
“I wanted to go, too,” Astilbe said. “But only family member’s funerals are excused absences from class, and I’ve got tests on Friday. I understand how Mom feels, though. If the lady I found on the sidewalk were to die, I’d want to be at her funeral service.”
“Oh, dear. I’d forgotten. You don’t know,” Judy looked at Ken, beseeching him with her eyes to break the news gently to their daughter.
Ken was absorbed in his dinner and didn’t get his wife’s message.
“That homeless woman you found died last night,” he said. “She didn’t have any family. Even gave a phony name for a contact person; ‘Nathaniel Hawthorne’, if you can believe that.”
Ken failed to notice Astilbe go pale.
“When I went to the hospital to see Ann this morning, the nurse told me she’d died in the night. Her heart was simply too weak to fight the pneumonia,” Judy explained. “It’s such a blessing she’d given her life to Christ.”
Astilbe remained silently looking down at her lap. A fat tear rolled down her cheek and plopped onto the tablecloth.
“Oh, dear, don’t cry,” Judy said. “You did everything you could. And she simply slipped away in her sleep. I’m sure she didn’t suffer.”
“Tilly’s upset because she wanted to keep her for a pet,” Paisley said.
“That’s not true!” Astilbe objected.
“Today you told me you were going to ask Mom and Dad if you could bring that women to live with us when she got out of the hospital,” Paisley replied. “Dad, is it un-Christian not to want to bring strangers into our home, even if they say they’ve made a decision for Christ?”
“When we are born again, we become a new creation. Isn’t that right?” Astilbe challenged her father. “What about the Good Samaritan?”
“Girls, lower your voices at the dinner table,” Ken said. “You are both correct, so you don’t need to argue. Yes, Astilbe, we are made new in Christ and our sins are forgiven. That’s in the spiritual realm. But, earthly consequences of earlier actions may remain, such as this woman’s ill-health. Also, as long as we are in our physical bodies, we are subject to temptation to revert to old habits, so we may not always take full advantage of our new chance.
“The good Samaritan bound up the wounds of the injured man. He took him to an inn and paid for his care, much as you did for the woman who called herself Hester Prynne. However, he didn’t take the man into his own home. Sometimes we need to temper our kindness and generosity with wisdom and discernment. If your woman had recovered, Astilbe, Mother and I would have wanted to get to know her before giving her free run of our home and possibly putting you girls in jeopardy of being harmed or influenced by her bad habits. I think the wise act would have been to arrange for housing for her and offer all our support and assistance as she grew in her new-found faith.”
“I just wanted to help her,” Astilbe said. “She was all alone and now she just fades away without notice.”
“I talked with your father, earlier, and he’s agreed to hold a service for Ann,” Judy said. “We can schedule a time when you can be there. Would you like that?”
“Oh, yes! Thanks, Mom. You, too, Dad,” Astilbe said. “Do you really think it was her guilt about having an abortion that made her life go bad?”
“The girls at school who’ve had abortions act like it’s nothing... like having a wart removed or something,” Paisley said. “They say it’s just a blob of cells, so it isn’t like when a real child dies.”
As she spoke, Paisley was reminded of the grief expressed in Victor Hugo’s poem for his lost daughter.
“You have friends who are having abortions?” Judy asked, letting a bit of food fall from her fork.
“Not any of my friends, Mom. But, lots of the girls have them and they tell everyone. They almost seem proud of it.”
“I had hoped our little town might have escaped the worst of the current moral decay, but I can see we haven’t. I need to preach some unpopular sermons in the near future,” Ken said. “It is so discouraging to watch people ruin their own lives like this.”
“But, wasn’t it worse when abortion was illegal, and all the women were being butchered in back alleys?” Astilbe asked.
“Is that what you are being taught?” Judy asked in dismay. “There were some deaths from botched attempts to be rid of a pregnancy, but there were far fewer girls having sex outside marriage in those days, too, and most accidental pregnancies were carried to term. The girls and their families either raised the babies or gave them up for adoption.”
“You girls need to do some historical research, if you aren’t being given the truth in school. The world today is a very different place than it was fifty or sixty years ago,” Ken said. “This country is fast becoming more pagan than ancient Babylon.”
“You don’t need to worry about us, Dad,” Astilbe said. “Patsy and I are never going to get into that kind of trouble.”
“You are good girls; your dad and I know that. But, it’s a dangerous world out there,” Judy said, turning to her husband, “Ken, I think we should pray, right now, for our girls and all the other young people who are not getting any moral guidance.”
Ken nodded, saying, “Dr. Haleby’s young cousin was probably a good girl, too, but someone evil killed her, and times are much worse, now.”
“Does anyone know how she died?” Paisley asked.
“Not that I’ve heard,” Ken replied. “But she wouldn’t have been left in a box in the woods, if it weren’t foul play.”
The twins looked somber as the family joined hands and began to pray.
Chapter 11
In the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Office, John Ransom slit the evidence seal on a scuffed and sagging cardboard box labeled “Missing Person: Victoria Folsom”.
“Thanks for hauling this out of the evidence locker for me, Forester. Did you have any trouble locating it?” he asked his sergeant, who leaned against the door frame wiping his hands on a paper towel.
“My allergies will probably act up from all the dust, and I think I strained my back lifting all the other boxes to get at it. I may have to fill out an OSHA report for worker’s comp,” Forester quipped, miming the posture of an old man.
“Poor baby,” Ransom said, lifting items from the box and spreading them on his desk. “Not much here, is there? It says here the mother dropped off this stuff from her daughter’s room when they were treating the case as a runaway.”
“At least the rats haven’t eaten everything,” Forester commented and picked up a notebook.
“What’s that?” Ransom asked, taking it from him. “Oh, ho! We’ve got a journal. Good eye.”
Ransom dismissed Forester and began to read the dead girl’s diary. When he was finished, he went to the staff kitchenette for a cup of coffee. On his way back to his office, he paused beside the sergeant’s desk to take a sip and accidentally spilled a bit of the hot liquid.
“Looks like the parents were probably right about the Haleby girl,” he said.
“Yeah?” Forester looked up from blotting coffee off his papers.
“Most of the entries in the diary are typical girlie nonsense, but a few weeks before her disappearance she started writing about some guy. I thought maybe she was making stuff up about a rock star or something, but she and this guy seem to have gotten pretty hot and heavy, especially for a thirteen-year-old girl. Come here and read the last entry.”
In his office, Ransom picked up the diary and leafed through to Victoria’s final entry before she disappeared.
“Here it is,” he said, handing the book to Forester who read aloud:
I made up my mind to tell HIM. HE will know what to do. Mommy will HAVE A COW if she finds out, but we will be
GONE before she can. She doesn’t really care about me, anyway, only what neighbors think and Daddy only cares about $$$$. He will be glad when I’m gone & he won’t have to buy me stuff. But MY SWEETHEART loves me. He has gobs of money & he will take me somewhere we can be TOGETHER for ever and ever. I am going to tell him tonite!!!
“The rest of the pages are blank,” the sergeant said. “So, you think she got pregnant and ran off with this guy?”
“Her parents said she was acting up about then; you know, staying out late, sassing back, moody, the whole nine yards. Sounds like she didn’t plan on being under their control much longer,” Ransom said.
“That makes the older man a person of interest. You think maybe he killed her? Any clues to who it was?”
“No. He was most likely from around here, though. The way she wrote about him didn’t sound like he was an outsider. The M.E. says the girl might have died from a botched abortion, though. So, maybe he was a married man. That might be motive to kill her, if she threatened to tell his wife about the baby,” Ransom said. “Or, it might have been an accident. Without a confirmed cause of death, we can’t know for sure.”
“Anyway, how are we going to find out who she was hanging around with all those years ago?” Forester asked. “Her parents are both dead, now.”
“Doc Haleby is her only living relative. He knew her back then. We’ll need to interview him to see if he can tell us who her friends were. If we are lucky enough to track down her girlfriends, they might be able to tell us who Victoria’s big romance was. I find it hard to imagine the girl ran away, went up to that chapel all by herself, crawled into the box and died. Premeditated homicide or botched abortion, either way, it’s murder.”
“I’m still waiting for the information I requested on known sex-offenders who were in the area at the time,” Forester said.
“Good. Keep after that,” Ransom said. “We don’t want to get too focused on the diary. Our perp could just as likely be a random stranger or a serial killer.”